


I'll Be Seeing You

by calis_1st



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calis_1st/pseuds/calis_1st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal made it through two months of prison and a major bank robbery case with Peter and the team after Kate's death.  Then comes his first weekend out.  Now what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Seeing You

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: This is a slightly cleaned-up version originally posted in Live Journal, in response to a prompt by florastuart on Collar Corner. It takes place right after "Withdrawal." 
> 
> The usual disclaimer - bows to Jeff Eastin for his amazing characters.

He was fine on that first day, when he went from prison orange jumpsuit to new bank employee pinstripes in under two hours. He was even better when he actually robbed the bank before lunch, and later that day when he briefed the bank executives on their security flaws. There was that momentary loss of concentration in Peter's office, and maybe just a little more anxiety than expected back at his desk when he was deconstructing the Architect's signature card, but it was just as likely a case of the first day back jitters.

The next couple of days were good, really good, because his mind was finally occupied. So easily did he slip back into a mental rhythm with Peter that he didn't even have visions of Kate's plane blowing up more than one or twice an hour, or feel the ache in his chest every single minute. The arrogance - the utter arrogance of Edward Walker - it kept him mentally occupied until he recognized that the amount of money stolen didn't match the amount the briefcases that left the building could hold, and from there Peter and the Harvard Crew were able to figure out where the extra had gone. The name on the safe-deposit box was such an amateurish mistake that they might even be able to use it to pull in the insiders for the robberies in Dallas, Chicago and Boston, and that would ensure Peter's continued employment and Neal's continued probation.

But the gun - that was unexpected. The resulting rush of adrenaline - the first real rush since, well, that day on the tarmac two months earlier - he'd forgotten how much he had missed that. The thrill of improvising a response to distract Renee, of not knowing if she would shoot Peter or himself, of seamlessly arguing with Peter on the fly and having it work as if they had scripted it, and then disarming her by blinding her with the dye packs he himself had warned her about, it was almost magic. But as all good things must come to an end, he was just waiting for the anxiety, headache and jitters that would come once the adrenaline crash ensued.

It was mid-afternoon on that Friday when Peter looked over at Neal - for what seemed like the thousandth time since he was back with them - and noticed him aimlessly tapping a pencil on his desk. There was really nothing else for Neal to do, so Peter suggested he get a head start on the weekend. Most people looked forward to a relaxing (or hectic) weekend. Neal was not most people, and the inevitable crash coupled with nothing to occupy his time or his mind - he knew it was going to be bad. That he would spiral into his dark place, as Mozzie would have said. He was grateful to Peter for the early day and hoped he would make it to June's before it kicked in.

He got home in time. As he crossed the foyer he thought he could hear music playing softly from elsewhere in the house. And as much as he just needed to go up to his apartment and give in he wanted to at least say hello to June. She was in the small parlor behind the formal living room, sitting alone with a glass of wine, eyes bright and staring at her own memories while the stereo played Rosemary Clooney on old vinyl.

_I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new*_

Tears spilled down her cheeks.

_I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you._

"June," he said softly from the arch framing the room's entrance.

She looked over at him. He crossed the few feet to her chair quickly, knelt before her and took her hands in his. She smiled at his concern for her.

"Neal, darling, please forgive an old woman for being maudlin."

_I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places  
That this heart of mine embraces, all day through,_

"Forgive? For what?" He stood, and his expression went from a slight smile at her comment to sadness as he heard the music.

_In that small cafe, the park across the way,_

"You can turn that off," she said to him. She thought Peter was going to keep Neal occupied as much as he could this week. If she knew he'd be home so early she would never have allowed herself this small indulgence.

_The children's carousel,  
The chestnut trees,  
The wishing well,_

"It's alright, it's a beautiful song. I - I don't think I ever heard this version before."

_I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day,  
In everything that's light and gay,  
I'll always think of you that way,_

He walked to the middle of the room, still wearing his overcoat, listening as he absently ran his hand through his hair.

_I'll find you in the morning sun and when the night is new,_

As she rose from her chair she thought he looked so young, and so very forlorn.

_I'll be looking at the moon  
But I'll be seeing you._

She turned off the stereo as the song ended.

"I know everyone has told you, but it does get easier," she said. Now his eyes were bright. He shrugged.

"It really does," she repeated, "but just know that, every so often, something will just sneak up on you, and it's as if it happened yesterday. It's okay to let it out."

The ghost of a smile reappeared on his face. "I should be going."

She watched him turn and walk through the arch leading to the big room as if he were carrying the weight of the world, or at least that of the burned out remains of a small plane, on his shoulders.

"Neal," she called to him, "is it very cold out?"

He stopped and turned toward her. "Not terribly, why?"

"I was wondering if we might walk to that little coffee shop on Broadway. I'm suddenly having a craving for a pastry."

"June," he said, giving her a look that said he knew what she was doing but wasn't quite sure if he approved of the why, "you make the best coffee in the city, and I've never known you to eat sweets before dinner."

"Humor me and let's splurge." She noticed a couple of fine lines around his eyes as she handed him her coat. "Unless you're tired, dear." After Byron died there were times when June wanted to be left alone and times she wanted people to reminisce about him with her. She doubted that Neal was able to grieve for Kate in prison, just as much as she knew that he wouldn't feel the need to put up a front for her. She just wanted him to know she would be a shoulder to cry on, if he needed one.

"I think a walk would be nice," he said as he helped her with her coat.

They walked a few short blocks to a little hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. An eclectic clientele filled most of the seats but they found a small booth by the window. June ordered for herself and an uncharacteristically distracted Neal; the coffee was almost equal to June's, and pastries were second to none.

"Samantha was over earlier today. She's doing quite well," June said after their waitress placed warm apple turnovers lightly dusted with cinnamon beside their half-finished coffees, and then refilled their cups.

"Good, that's - good. How is Cindy doing?"

"She's putting together a show as part of her practicum. She's a nervous wreck about it, even though she has two more months." She watched Neal poke at the turnover in front of him. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Did you ever have the chance to visit Vienna?" she asked him. He shook his head.

"Kate and I thought we'd get there someday."

"Byron and I went there, oh, a couple of years before he died. We went to the Schloss Schonbrunn. It was the Hapsburgs' summer palace. Over 1400 rooms, magnificent gardens. It was really too much to take in. But the best part was seeing a little kitchen below the main level where a young man showed us how to make the most wonderful apple strudel. Oh, the strudel and the coffee - I'm almost embarrassed to say that was one of my favorite afternoons of our trip." She smiled at the memory, and Neal smiled with her, with a smile that finally reached his eyes.

"Have you tried your hand at making it?" he asked. That made her chuckle.

"I did, several times. It was passable, but I could never get the dough as paper thin as that young man did." She paused. "Byron didn't seem to mind, though."

Neal cut a small piece of his turnover and ate it.

"This is really good," he said, surprised. "Kate didn't like to make anything that needed a rolling pin. I guess I would have been the strudel maker of the fa - " he stopped himself. "Of the pair of us. She made killer fudge, though."

"I'm sorry I never had the opportunity to meet her." She meant what she said, if for no other reason than to see them together, but she wasn't sure if she would have liked the woman herself. Peter was clearly not a fan, and Mozzie indicated that he thought she had been playing Neal, as well. "What was she like?"

"Well, Kate loved the classics," he said, smiling. June laughed; that was one expression everyone had used when speaking of Kate.

He shrugged. "I don't know, June. I really loved her. I thought she loved me, too. Everything between us was perfect until - well, until I wanted us to meet up with Alex but didn't mention Alex to Kate. I don't know if she was jealous of something that ended a long time before or if that was just an excuse. But - " He stared past June, remembering how Kate had felt in his arms, and how she spoke to him, almost five years earlier when he found her, and Peter found them both and arrested him. He thought she had forgiven him. He shook those thoughts away.

"She did visit me in prison. Every week. And then she stopped. Mozzie thought it was a very long con on her part to get the music box. Peter thinks it was all a lie. I - I just wish I had more time." He let out a deep breath. "So, did Byron ever make Viennese pastry?"

June understood that he was finished discussing Kate.

"Byron made petit fours. He used to make them for the girls for their tea parties. And every one of them was perfect." She shook her head and smiled at the memory.

"I wish I had met him."

"He would have liked you. I think the two of you might have even been good for each other. He wanted to get out of the life, and maybe you would have gotten out with him before you landed in prison."

He shrugged. "I don't think so, June. I was young and trying to get Kate's attention. Unless Byron could have found her before Peter did, I don't see that things could have ended any differently."

"Neal, you know you're still young. And since you didn't meet Byron, I'm glad you have Peter in your life. How was work this week?"

"Well, you know, I bypassed a bank's security and walked out with almost a million dollars on behalf of the FBI, we watched as the bank was robbed for real, figured out who the bad guy was, saw him make a fool out of Peter and me, figured out how he did it, Peter arrested him, and I didn't even have a gun pointed at me until today. I'd say a good week."

"A gun? And Peter-"

"Was right at my side." He sipped his coffee. " I think he thinks I'm going to break."

"And what do you think?"

"You know me, June, I'm fine."

"Never con a con, Neal." She crossed her arms and watched him across the table. He gave her an ingratiating smile and blinked at her innocently, making her laugh.

"I know you are far from fragile, Neal. I doubt that anyone thinks you're going to fall apart. You just need to remember that you're not alone anymore. Mozzie, Peter, Elizabeth, me - we all care for you. Mozzie came to my house after every visit he had with you, and he was quite worried about you. Not his usual paranoia, but real concern about you being in prison after working with the FBI and losing Kate. Peter called at least once a week. He offered to pay your rent until you got out, to make sure you'd have a place to live. Elizabeth and I had tea. Make that fortified tea. She had some - shall we say, interesting - things to say about Agent Fowler. As soon as Peter started the paperwork to have you released back into his custody, Clinton Jones and Diana Barrigan came by to introduce themselves to me, in case anything happened and Peter wasn't available. Even Alex called. I believe she was in Monaco. People care about you, Neal. You don't have to hide from them all the time."

He was gripping his coffee cup with both hands while she spoke, head down, looking at something she couldn't see. She let him be silent for a couple of minutes.

"I didn't get to say goodbye to her. I didn't want to leave New York. I thought - maybe - I could convince her to stay here. I never got the chance." He rubbed his eyes with one hand and then looked up.

"I miss her, June."

"I know."

It was dark outside, and the sidewalks were crowded with people coming home from work.

"Let's go home," she said.

Home.

It was colder with the sun down but she declined his offer to hail a cab, preferring to keep her arm wrapped in his as they walked the few blocks back.

"How do you get past the worst part?"

She took a deep breath. "In the beginning, I cried a lot. By myself, not in front of the girls or our friends. Pretty much the same as you, I imagine." She gave a sideways glance up at him and saw a smirk and a nod. "But then, I decided I needed to stop dwelling on his death and remember his life. Remember him healthy and young and full of life. And full of mischief. How he was with the girls, and then his grandbabies. Once I could call up pictures of him alive, it got less painful. I still miss touching him, though, and dancing. And when missing him overwhelms the good pictures I pour a glass of wine and listen to the saddest songs I can find. It really does help."

"Really?"

"Or I find a dear friend to join me for coffee and pastry before dinner."

The stopped for a light and turned to each other in the crowd around them.

"I see what you're doing," he said.

"Is it working?"

He had a faraway look in his eyes for just a moment.

"Not quite yet, but it will." He squeezed her hand and smiled.

***

Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> *A/N2: I'll Be Seeing You, music by Sammy Fain, lyrics by Irving Kahal; published in 1938. Covered by many wonderful singers, Rosemary Clooney's version is here on YouTube - http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Uf8zNIdsvhE#!


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